


The Bravest of Men (and Nations)

by Kirscheberry



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Coming Out, Gay Male Character, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirscheberry/pseuds/Kirscheberry
Summary: Ludwig faces his truth, with the help of a few key allies.
Relationships: Austria/Spain (Hetalia), Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 144





	The Bravest of Men (and Nations)

**Author's Note:**

> this is something i've wanted to write for a while and i'm so glad i finally decided to. this includes aspects of some posts i've written about on my tumblr, so if you follow me there and see some stuff that sounds familiar, that's why!
> 
> some extra notes are at the end of the fic.

Ludwig Beilschmidt, to put it simply, had an issue.

He had always assumed his lack of romantic competence was an unfortunate result of his lineage. As far as his memory served him, Gilbert had never taken a lover. No tales that had been told of his grandfather mentioned a mistress. His cousin Basch was the most jaded, unlikable bastard of them all. Even all the old kingdoms, who fought and married and fought and married again, did so out of duty rather than because they were entralled with each other.

Ludwig naturally assumed this would be how he would live his life as well: without a wife, yes, but also without the need for one. What nation had the time for that? He was born to wage war, not to fall in love - especially not with a housewife who would insist on cooking and cleaning. Truth be told, he could not think of anything worse than someone doing his chores for him.

 _Don't marry, don't fall in love,_ he would think. _You don't need to. You are Germany, not some weak human man whose resolve crumples at the first kiss from his girl._

That was his plan.

It would have been a damn good plan too, if it weren't for Feliciano.

Ever since he met him, that strategy was stepped and spat on. Feliciano would greet him with a firm kiss on each of his cheeks, and it was like nothing he had ever known. The kisses from passing girls on the street were always wet, unwanted, insincere. With his Feliciano, they were warm and gentle and never failed to be enough to stop his heart for a second or two.

Always in need of a snug body beside his own, Feliciano possessed a wicked habit of sneaking his way into Ludwig's bed in the early hours of the morning. This, of course, was not something Ludwig objected to. Any moment he could spend feeling Feliciano's skin against his own or memorizing the freckles that adorned his face became his new favorite moment.

He didn't want to admit to it, because that would be confirming all the wretched suspicions he held about himself. If he had to keep those thoughts confined to when Feliciano was sleeping soundly beside him, then that was how it was going to have to be.

In the event that anyone discovered his affinity for men, particularly for Feliciano...well. He didn't want to give that any thought.

* * *

"Are you alright?"

Ludwig looked up from his breakfast. "Me? Yes."

"You don't seem so good," Gilbert pointed out, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm fine," he sighed. "Honest."

"See, there. You never talk to me all sad like that. What's up?"

He shot his brother an indignant glare. "Good lord, Gilbert. Nothing!"

"Jesus, okay. Forget I even asked."

This type of bickering was commonplace; they were siblings, after all. What wasn't commonplace was the old Bible Gilbert was currently sifting through. Ludwig knew his brother stuck to his faith, even after all these years, but it was always something he kept quiet about. All nations did, regardless of their religion. It wasn't likely their lot was eligible to reach an afterlife, so it usually wasn't worth discussing anyways.

"Why are you reading that?" he queried, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"This old thing? I've had it forever. I guess I just felt like it." With that, he shut the book and began picking up his plate.

"May I see it?"

If his eyes could grow any narrower than they already were, they did. "For what?"

"Just to read, brother. I didn't get the newspaper today."

A familiar grin spread across his face, and Ludwig nearly sighed in relief that his suspicion was gone. "You're such an old geezer, reading the newspaper. It's a new century, in case you haven't noticed." He slid the Bible across the table. "Just put it back on the shelf when you're finished."

As he rinsed off his dishes, he cried, "Oh, 'tis a glorious day! My younger brother has finally found his God!" Then, with a maniacal cackle, he was gone.

Ludwig rolled his eyes, and flipped open the book.

He'd read it all before, he had. He was not quite sure why he was doing so again.

He knew that it hurt to read. Every word against homosexuality was a word against Feliciano; beautiful, wonderful Feliciano, who loved his God like he loved few others.

_Nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals...shall inherit the kingdom of God._

Did Gilbert believe this? He must, if he spent centuries spreading the Bible's word.

_If there is a man who lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act; they shall surely be put to death._

Feliciano couldn't condone this. The man who jumped at the chance to kiss Ludwig's cheeks, who held his arm like a lifeline as he slept, who nestled his head underneath his own, could not be a man who supported that.

Ludwig slammed the pages shut in a small act of defiance, then stood. He had lost his appetite.

_Their bloodguiltness is upon them._

* * *

Looking back on his childhood, Ludwig supposed he should have guessed.

Images of the soldiers he so looked up to flashed in his mind. Broad shoulders, a determined gaze, steady and capable hands. A teenage Ludwig, dazzled by the medals on their chests and the way their fingers gripped their horses' reins. How would it feel, he had wondered, to lay beside them, holding those hands in his own and cherishing their warmth?

His introduction to the rest of Europe's nations did not help his case. Ivan, daunting and strange though he was, had a laugh that rumbled in his chest and made Ludwig shiver. He was entranced by Nils's eyes, how he could send a glance his way and appear as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. Antonio, always so kind, captivated him with dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck and bronze skin that was a testament to his love affair with the sun. Timo spoke in a way that made it sound like his words were dancing through the air, and his skill with firearms caused something warm to settle in Ludwig's chest.

Even when he began to look further, out past seas and oceans, across entire continents, it was much of the same. Sadik's large hands and steady laughter; Kiku's cunning, intelligent demeanor; Alfred's optimism and bright, clear eyes.

It was strictly admiration. Ludwig wanted to be _like_ those men, it had never occurred to him at that time that he might want to be _with_ them.

Now, he wasn't quite so sure.

Desperately, he thought of Erzsébet, of Lotte, of Tereza, hoping and praying that he would feel the same spark in his chest. Of course, it never came. Ludwig would give his life for Erzsi, just as Gilbert and Roderich would. If there was a single nation he would want beside him as he walked into hell, it would be her, for all her resilience and bravery. He loved her dearly, but her freckles and wavy hair didn't hold a candle to Feliciano's.

Ah. There was the strictly platonic admiration: in Erzsébet, not in any of the men he had fawned over like a foolish child.

 _Gay_ was a term he could hardly bear to think about. All the men and women who were unable to love throughout history haunted his dreams. Censored or blackmailed or tortured or killed. Dead at the hands of his government. Dead at the hands of his people. A longing glance, a fleeting kiss, a precious letter shoved underneath a mattress.

He could not lose Feliciano like that. Words from a discussion held long ago resurfaced in his mind:

_"Don't you have a girl or two you like? Or a first love?"_

_"I did have a first love. It...it was another boy, though."_

He would not miss his chance.

Ludwig made a decision - he needed to talk to someone, and he already had a fellow nation in mind.

* * *

Francis had always been indirectly a part of his life, mostly in the form of Gilbert cursing his name. When the others gossiped about how beautiful he was, they weren't exaggerating - besides that, he was many other things. He had a reputation for doling out advice like it was his job, but more importantly, he was the nation of love.

 _That includes all love, right?_ Ludwig fretted standing at the doorstep of Francis's home. _Including men who love men?_

He knocked three times, hoping and praying that he didn't have anyone else inside with him.

The door swung open. "Yes? Yes, hello? Oh, Ludwig! How are you?"

"Well enough," he said, shrugging. "May I have a word?"

"Ack, you are so formal! Come in, come in. It's no trouble at all."

As was expected, Francis's house was old. A close look would reveal chips of paint falling off the walls and floorboards that creaked at even the slightest movement. Nevertheless, it managed to stay elegant and, Ludwig thought, suited him rather well.

Francis must have noticed his ogling, because after he sat Ludwig down on a sofa in his living room, he asked, "So, what is it you needed to talk to me about? If this is about my house again, I'm trying to keep it up to EU standards but it's difficult. If only you were my age and understood how old and miserable I am." He sighed and leaned against the arm of the sofa, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. "Unless it isn't about that."

"It's not professional." A wave of relief swept its way across his host's face. "I'm...I'm confiding in you as an ally, and...well, maybe even as a friend." His throat felt tight, was that normal? "This isn't anything I've ever shared with anyone else before."

Francis must have heard the apprehension in his voice or saw it in his stature, because he reached across the sofa and took one of Ludwig's hands in his own.

"I've been thinking about this a long time and...I'm homosexual. I like men and I don't know how to change it."

Francis's eyes suddenly went very sad.

"Is that bad? I know male nations have been...married before, but it wasn't real love, was it? Just a political agreement? Does this happen to us? Is it normal?" He couldn't help it; all that he had been fretting over came tumbling out of his mouth like a landslide.

His confidant patted his hand. "Calm down. One question at a time."

The warmth of his touch managed to keep him grounded, and he cleared his throat. "Is it normal?"

Francis smiled, but the sadness in his eyes remained. "Of course, dear. As normal as the sky is blue."

"But...for us?"

There was a beat of silence, and Francis retracted his hand.

"When you said you've never shared this before - does your brother know?"

"No."

"I'm truly the first?"

Ludwig nodded solemnly, feeling heavy and tired.

"Darling. Why me? Why not any of your family?"

"I don't know what they would say. Prussia never talks about romance at all. Never has. I didn't know this about myself when any of the old kingdoms were still around. And Austria..."

His train of thought fell away to reveal a much more comforting notion. He had told someone, and the world had not yet ended. It was out. If Francis was less honorable than he had bargained, he could have used it against him, and yet Ludwig wasn't afraid. He felt liberated, like things might turn out alright.

He shook his head to clear it. "I was always told you were the nation of love and I just thought that maybe you would understand."

"I've fallen for many men within my lifetime, my dear. Some more insufferable than others."

That managed to pull a laugh out of Ludwig, who could place a solid bet on who that was. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, knowing that at the very least, Francis understood. No matter what else happened, he had an ally here.

"You have my sympathy, Ludwig, and you have my support. If you want further advice, I implore you to go talk to Sweden."

"To Sweden? Why?"

Francis winked. "You will see, my dear."

* * *

The next day, Feliciano showed up unannounced at Ludwig's door with a container of leftovers in hand. He rambled on about some situation in which he had invited a handful of parliament members he had befriended over for dinner, and in his excitement had prepared more food than any of them knew what to do with.

Ludwig tried not to lose his composure when his fingers brushed against Feli's as he accepted the gift.

He asked him to stay. He wanted to spend the afternoon with him, to share the meal he had received, to talk, to laugh. Feliciano couldn't, but he promised that he would find time for them soon.

"Just the two of us," he vowed, throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder.

Ludwig's heart was thrown into fits.

When Feliciano managed to find time for them, they filled a basket with bread and jam and ate their small breakfast in Ludwig's backyard.

"This is nice," crooned his companion. He was right. The June morning was warm, but there was a breeze, and the sun was not yet strong enough to cause any discomfort. As Feliciano rested his head upon his shoulder, Ludwig thought that all the grass stains were going to be worth it.

"It is."

* * *

Ludwig thought that Berwald's home tended to be very, well, homely. It was compact, but decorated with pictures and mementos that must have held great emotional value. The scent of coffee, wood shavings and pine made it seem far more inviting than Ludwig's was. There was a sense of sturdiness about it, something that suggested he took pride in his home but also wanted to keep it reminiscent of himself and his family.

"Sit where you like," he offered, then gestured to his kitchen. "Coffee? Have some on already."

"That would be great, thank you."

Berwald was an odd fellow, surely, but good. Kind-hearted, as far as nations went, but he spoke in a way that omitted all the words that weren't necessary. Ludwig supposed it wasn't that big of an issue, as long as he got his point across.

"France sent you?" he asked as he placed a mug in front of Ludwig.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"Told me."

He froze. "How much did he tell you?"

"Said that it was about something I could help with." Berwald paused to take a sip of his coffee, as if he had all the time in the world. "You gay?"

Ludwig inhaled sharply, and as a result began to choke and splutter. "E-excuse me?"

"You don't know?" He sounded genuinely surprised, and that terrified Ludwig.

"About what?"

"About me."

"About _you?_ "

He laughed. "Yes. About me and my husband."

"Your _what?"_

"Goodness, Ludwig."

"Nobody ever told me!"

Berwald held out his left hand for Ludwig to see. Wrapped around his ring finger was a simple silver band, save for the small sapphire embedded in the middle.

"He's got the same one," he murmured. "Gold instead of silver, but with the same stone."

Ludwig struggled to take his eyes off the ring, then gasped as he realized. "Finland?"

Even only at the mention of his name, Berwald smiled. "Of course."

Ludwig had known Timo for a while, since the war and a few years before that. He always had a good joke, even if his humor was a little dry, but he could turn terribly cold and quiet at a moment's notice. Never during any time they spent together did he mention being in love with or even being close enough to Berwald to marry him. He never would have guessed.

"He never told me," murmured Ludwig. "Back when we worked together."

"He wouldn't."

They left it at that, and Ludwig switched the topic back to the concept of marriage itself. "You can do that? It doesn't, I don't know, violate any rules?"

"Oh, Germany. We gave up on rules long ago." His tone was wistful, like he couldn't care less about anyone who told him his marriage was wrong.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"'Course."

"How should I tell Prussia about all this? How did your own family react?"

Berwald hummed. "The nations I consider my family...understood." He paused, as if he was choosing his next words carefully. "Reckon they aren't the straightest bunch either." Ludwig smirked at that, then frowned once more as he continued. "But I don't know Prussia very well. Outside of fighting him, at least. Maybe Austria could talk."

"And he is...okay? With this?" He motioned between himself and Berwald, as if to visualize what the two of them shared.

"Your brother has truly told you nothing."

* * *

Of all the nations besides Gilbert and Feliciano, Ludwig probably knew Roderich the best. Years ago, longer than he could remember, he had offered to raise him instead of his brother, and now that Ludwig was grown he couldn't decide whether that would have been for better or for worse.

He didn't get the chance to knock on the front door before Roderich peered out and stepped aside to let him in. He didn't get the chance to explain why he was visiting before Roderich forced him into his sitting room. And he didn't get the chance to breathe in before Roderich had crossed his arms and had begun to speak.

"Before you ask me anything, let me get a word in. I've heard you've been running around, asking anyone you think won't bite your head off if you being in love with Feliciano is a big deal. And now you're going to do the same thing to me even though I've known for decades."

"You knew about it _all?_ " Ludwig asked, gawking in disbelief.

"You're my family. Of course I knew." His voice was softer now, as if his knowing wasn't meant to be negative.

Ludwig's face was burning, but he pressed on. "Sweden told me to talk to you. He said you might be able to help me about how to tell Prussia, since you know him better than he does." The ring Berwald had showed him flashed in his mind once more. "He helped me understand some other things, but he seemed to think this would be better left for you."

"That man spoke to you for more than ten seconds?" Roderich chuffed.

"Austria, _please._ Please just give me a piece of advice or two."

Never to be upstaged, he leaned back with a contemplative hum, and it was a long moment before he spoke again. "You want to know how to come out to your brother, then? My advice: just say it."

"That doesn't help."

Roderich shot him an impudent look. "It's how it's going to work. If you put it in any fancier terms you'd end up having to spell it out for him."

"And he won't mind it? You've known him all your life, I'm sure you'd at least know that."

"Well, I'm not Gilbert, but I think you're facing a very solid chance of being alright," he said, a slight smirk in his voice.

They sat in silence for a minute longer, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

"I loved a man once," Roderich murmured, gazing out the window as if recalling a particularly distant but fond memory. "Years ago."

He suddenly held Ludwig's full attention. "Really? Who was it?"

"A nation." Roderich pursed his lips, as if deciding on what to say next. "One who had a love affair with the sun."

Ludwig understood right away.

He could scarcely contain himself. Antonio was one of Gilbert's oldest and dearest friends, and his own cousin had fallen for him. He didn't know if that was still the case, and it wasn't his place to ask - but that realization, to know that interconnectedness even existed, made his heart sing.

* * *

He had barely even turned the keys in his door before Gilbert was upon him, looking frazzled.

"Hey. Is there something you need to talk to me about?"

His heart sunk. Did someone tell him? Had one of the nations he had opened himself up to been bested by their need for drama? If they had, Ludwig thought, they'd have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

"What...what do you mean?"

"Roderich sent me an e-mail telling me that you needed to talk to me, and it was very important. That's all. I don't know what that could mean, and..." He looked his brother up and down, obviously checking for some kind of physical wound. "Obviously you aren't hurt, but what is it?"

Ludwig stared at him, taking in his distressed expression, and for a moment it seemed as if the world consisted of only them. This was his chance. Regardless of the previous talks he had held with the others, he still felt that once this conversation was over, Gilbert might never look at him the same way again.

"I..." He drew in a deep breath. _No turning back now._ "I don't think I like women. I think I'm gay." There was no response, so he continued. "And I think I'm in love with Feliciano."

Gilbert clicked his tongue, and his eyes filled with something akin to pity.

"I'm sorry," Ludwig whispered. Emotion welled up in his chest, more intense than he'd felt in a long time. "You wanted me to be perfect. I tried. I tried, brother. Truly, I did. This, I...I can't help. You taught me to be honest and brave and keeping this from you wouldn't have been right."

"Don't you fucking apologize."

A hand settled on his shoulder. When he was younger, those hands had been a symbol of strength to Ludwig, always whittling away at something with a small blade, raising a sword above his head, or punching away at a sack of flour for practice. Yet they were also a symbol of affection; Ludwig was born sickly, and he still could recall Gilbert murmuring to him as he tucked heavy quilts around his body.

Now, they were frail, decades of lost nationhood taking their toll. He was underweight, most of his previous muscle gone, and he often came down with a cough.

Maybe it was time for Ludwig to stop fretting over what Gilbert thought of him. Maybe he should focus on keeping him as healthy as he could.

He didn't quite know what to say in response to his brother, but before he could come up with anything, Gilbert had already started down the hallway. "I've got an idea, stay there."

He returned with a small leather-bound journal, flipping rapidly to the page he had in mind. Looking nerve-wracked himself, he shoved it into Ludwig's arms.

"Read that."

And he did.

_"I've been helping out Italy, the heir of the Roman Empire. Despite his bloodline he's found himself in somewhat of a pathetic position: held down by that no-good Austria and wasting his life as a servant._

_"He's physically young, newly eighteen if I had to guess. His eyes betray his age, almost. And he is beautiful. I've never come across a nation with his level of grace, of love for the world and all it has to offer._

_"When we were allowed a break, we sat by the river. I fished, and Feliciano watched me, occasionally sketching the creatures he spotted in the water. His eyes are strange, but beautiful. He has a bad habit of keeping them closed or lidded, or not making eye contact. It's as if he doesn't want anyone to see them, and that makes me wonder why._

_"I don't know if it's possible he has the same tastes as I. Rome was infamous for his love of women and I would assume Italy is the same way. If I am ever to have a husband - in a far off world where that is considered normal - I'd like it to be him, or someone of his kind nature._

_"Regardless, I'd like to remain his friend. He possesses that odd sense of wonder, always eager to keep spirits high. If that's how it has to be, then that's how it must be."_

Ludwig slowly shut the journal, his heart beating so fast he couldn't focus on anything else. So his brother was the same. He must have been dreaming, because how else was this possible?

"I think most of us are just a little bit in love with Feliciano," quipped Gilbert, his voice low and bashful.

"You're...like me?" he breathed.

"Nah. I mean, I like girls just fine too, so...in a way, yes, but in my own way, no."

"And you're not upset that I love him?" It was hardly more than a whisper. "This reads like you really liked him."

"All a long time ago now. He was never mine, I never expected him to be." Gilbert laughed, but not in the loud and half-crazed way he often did - it was little more than a small huff. "I think it's obvious when that man chooses someone, and by God, Ludwig, he's chosen you."

Gilbert then released a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. "I suspected you might have loved Feliciano for a while now, but I never thought you'd carry guilt over it. I never wanted you to feel that way."

"Don't be sorry," Ludwig said, shoving his arm playfully in a rather uncharacteristic motion. "My fault, not yours. If it's as...normal among us as you say, then you had no reason to believe I would have thought otherwise."

"In the future, don't hide things like this from me. Maybe I haven't been the greatest sibling, but I want to be, so..."

Ludwig thought that he was probably fishing for a compliment, judging by the tone of his voice, but he knew deep down that his brother was being sincere. Then there was a knock at the door, three quick raps, and just from that they could both tell who their visitor was.

"I think that's your beau," chided Gilbert. When Ludwig didn't move, he threw back his head and laughed. "Well? Go answer the door, you big lug!"

"Thank you," slipped out of him before he could stifle it. "For not getting upset."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "For God's sake. You're welcome, I love you. Now go!"

When he opened the door, Feliciano was teetering on the balls of his feet, his hands folded behind his back. His gaze met Ludwig's and his eyes, strange yet beautiful as Gilbert had described them, flashed with affection.

"Ah, hello! Good afternoon!" he trilled, leaning upwards to place a kiss on each of his cheeks. The motion made Ludwig's heart leap into his throat and he wanted this feeling to stay with him forever. "I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come to dinner with me tonight? If you aren't busy?"

 _Dinner._ God, what screamed "date" more than _dinner?_ "I'd love to."

He felt warm fingers against his chest. "Are you okay? You look different. Did something happen?"

Ludwig smiled, filled to the brim with love for the man standing in front of him. In spite of all they'd been through, his overpowering instinct to make sure his companions were well remained. Everything was going to be okay. In response, he covered Feliciano's hand with his own and stooped down to press a kiss against his curls.

"I'm better than I've ever been, Feliciano."

**Author's Note:**

> nils is the name i use for norway, lotte is belgium, and tereza is czechia.
> 
> france and sweden as the universal lgbt nation defense duo is something i will talk about until my last breath haha.
> 
> prussia's attraction to italy is a very canon thing! and oh, boy, is it obvious once you know it's there, and i absolutely adore it.
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
